


How To Be Cared For

by AuroraCloud



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Caretaking, Exhaustion, Food, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Running, Tea, Team TARDIS, aftermath of an adventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-02 07:11:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18806257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraCloud/pseuds/AuroraCloud
Summary: The Doctor is used to saving the day and taking care of what needs to be taken care of. Unless it's herself.Luckily her friends don't give up easily.





	How To Be Cared For

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EvelynThursday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvelynThursday/gifts).



The Doctor watched as the spaceship lifted off, carrying the remaining inhabitants to safety before the fire would destroy the space station. She heaved a sigh of relief.

It was a short one, though. "The fire's coming this way!" Yaz yelled in the corridor, and Graham was tugging at her sleeve.

"C'mon, Doc! We've got to go away, quickly!"

She moved, but found her movements oddly slow. When she made it to the corridor, she stood disoriented, not knowing which way to go. What had happened to her sense of direction? She should remember. She hadn't slept the last couple of nights, and her brain seemed to give up on finding information.

Then she heard Yaz shout something at Ryan in another corridor, Graham tugged at her, and she remembered where to go. But when she turned to go, her legs suddenly wobbled, and she would have fallen down if Graham hadn't caught her.

"Doctor!" he shouted in alarm. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she gasped, managing to find her legs again, and stood up. "Just a bit tired. Run!"

They ran, turned the corner, and she could see the TARDIS at the end of the corridor, and Yaz and Ryan running towards it. Everything was cast in a smoky, orange glow as fire raged in the nearby rooms and corridors. But they'd get to the TARDIS before the fire reached them, if they ran fast.

Her steps seemed slow like she was wading through mud, and she felt oddly detached, like she wasn't quite there. Maybe she should have had that sandwich Graham had offered, but she'd been too busy trying to prevent the explosion. And then trying to contain it. And then to get the rocket working and all the people on it. Taking care of herself wasn't important. She forced herself to speed up.

Suddenly a piece of the supporting structure fell down between them. Graham cried out, and stopped. The tangled metal piece hadn't hit him, but was blocking his way. The Doctor stopped, braced herself and pushed the metal aside, grimacing as its heat burned her hands. Something exploded above, maybe a window, and splinters rained down. One of them hit the Doctor in the back of her shoulder, and she yelled as a spike of pain shot through her. "Damn it!" She half collapsed against the wall.

It hurt. But no time to think, now. She pushed herself off the wall with a grimace, and turned to look at Graham, finding him unhurt. "Run! To the TARDIS, quickly!"

Graham just stood staring like he hadn't heard her. "Are you okay?"

"Don't worry about it," she said, grasping the wall for support, trying not to grimace from the pain. "It was nothing. Run!" She shoved him as hard as she could without losing her balance. He ran on, and she took a deep breath, pushed the pain to the back of her mind, and followed him.

She saw Yaz reach the TARDIS, opening the door with her key and flinging it open. She and Ryan tumbled into the TARDIS, and the Doctor felt one weight lift off her chest. Now only Graham and herself to get to safety.

"Run!" She yelled at him. Graham only grunted. Smart not to waste breath, really. Her lungs were planning to give up soon. And what was this with her limbs feeling so weak?

Something seemed to dig deeper into the flesh of her shoulder with each step. She reached up clumsily with her other hand as she ran and yanked it away, smothering a grunt of pain. A piece of thick glass. She remembered the splinters. The piece looked bloody. She threw it aside. The wound in her shoulder was wet and throbbing.

The last steps to the TARDIS; the flames were snapping and roaring so close that she could feel their heat. She leaped to the open TARDIS door and waited to push Graham in before she followed. The flames were biting at her heels even at the doorstep. She leaped in and slammed the door shut behind her. 

She ran straight to the console and started quickly punching buttons to initiate the departure sequence. She could still feel the heat.

"Doctor," Yaz said, rushing to her.

"Not now!" she snapped. 

"Your coat's on fire!" Yaz yelled. She leapt at the Doctor and batted at her legs with something soft and heavy. Probably her jacket. The Doctor yelped, but managed to pull the dematerialization lever. She grimaced as her burnt hand hurt.

She collapsed against the console, her limbs giving up as the column began to rise and the familiar whooshing began. "Whew!" She looked behind her. "Was I really on fire?"

"Yes," Yaz said, still panting, looking worried.

Her coat was missing a large part of its hem, charred and sooty. "Damn it! I like this coat! It has such nice pockets!"

"Hey, are you bleeding?" Yaz asked. 

"It's nothing," the Doctor said. With effort, she pushed herself off the console and turned to hide her back. "A bit of a scratch from debris. You all go and catch your breath. We're now…" she glanced at the monitors to make sure they were where she meant them to be, "on orbit around the Earth's Moon. We're safe."

"Why the Moon?" Ryan asked. He was wiping soot and sweat off his face and clothes, but seemed unharmed.

"Less space junk than around the Earth. Won't be as hard on the old girl's shields. Go now, get to shower, to bed, whatever you want. Rest."

Yaz was still looking at her all funny. Concern, that's what it was. "Make sure you rest, too," she said. 

"Sure," the Doctor said, hoping she sounded as off-handed and unperturbed as ever. "Off you go to your rooms, shoo. I'll just check that the shields are okay, before I…" She waved her hand to indicate whatever acceptable thing she would do. Words were hard.

"Don't forget to eat," Graham said. "You haven't eaten all day or last night."

"Sure," she said distractedly. Graham was always going on about food.

He smiled and shrugged, then walked away. He looked hunched and weary. Was this getting to be too much for him? She had to make sure her friends were all right, she couldn't let those things happen again which had happened to some of her friends in the past, and Grace, and… she was too tired to think of more. A dull hammer of a headache was starting to beat her brows, bringing nausea with it. She stayed still until Yaz and Ryan had left.

"All right, then," the Doctor mumbled and turned back to the console, trying not to slump against it. "Help me out, old girl."

She did check the shields — it wouldn't do to be knocked out by an asteroid while she was going to be out like a proverbial light. Then she leaned in, breathed, waited until she felt it — the TARDIS granting her a little spark of energy. Her limbs felt a bit stronger, supported her so she could drag herself out of the console room. She went into the closest room that she could call her bedroom. She collapsed on the bed, letting the pristine white walls soothe her.

She could feel the throbbing of her hurt shoulder, but was too exhausted to do anything about it. She sank into the deeper layers of her consciousness, reaching to the current deep down where she had grown intertwined with her TARDIS during the centuries — millennia — they had spent together.

The TARDIS surged around her mind, and she sensed worry, care, fear. "I'm all right," she thought at the TARDIS. She received the psychic equivalent of a scoff. "Okay, I'm not. But I will be. I just need to rest."

She felt the TARDIS telling her to rest, the TARDIS would take care of her. She let the flow of energy from the TARDIS submerge her. It eased the pain in the shoulder, stopped some of the bleeding, soothed her aching limbs. The burns in her hands started to fade. _Thank you, dear,_ she thought at her ship.

She felt like she was floating in an ocean of tea, hearing music played by advanced equations. And maybe whales. 

The sensations of ache and exhaustion faded away, or she faded into them. She allowed herself to float into a vortex of fractals of the TARDIS's mind, her unlikely geometries, her poetry of dimensions, until she knew nothing else for a long while.

*****

The Doctor woke up to the smell of coffee and tea. She heard golden droplets of sound that dissolved into the voices of people she knew. She could smell toast, too. And biscuits.

She turned her head and saw a stack of custard creams, neatly laid by the pillow. _Thanks, old girl_ , she thought fondly at the TARDIS. 

She reached for the biscuits, and suddenly cried out at the stab of pain at her shoulder. The wound had healed partly as she slept, but not enough to stop hurting. There was a tightness, like blood had dried in the wound and stuck onto her shirt. Darn, she liked this shirt.

She carefully rolled over to her side and managed to take a biscuit. She bit off a piece, then realized her mouth was dry as sandpaper. No fair. She couldn't even taste her custard cream properly. Still, she swallowed the best she could. Felt good to get something inside her. Now how about some of that tea?

No tea here. It had to be in the place that the voices were coming from. The door was half open, though she was sure she'd closed it before. The TARDIS was interfering again.

"I'll go take some for the Doctor," said one of the voices. Yaz. 

The Doctor clambered up quickly, not heeding her pain. She tried to sit up straight, as well as look relaxed. She suddenly felt dizzy.

There were footsteps, then the door opened more and Yaz peered in. She was holding a tea tray.

"Hey, you're awake," she said.

"Yes," the Doctor said, trying to sound chipper, which didn't work because her voice came out as a croak. "Um. And thirsty."

"I brought you tea" Then Yaz's face fell. "Oh, I should have brought water, too. Wait, I'll get you some water. Are you hungry? Never mind, I'll bring you sandwiches."

Yaz set her tea tray down by the Doctor's bedside, and left before the Doctor had time to say anything. Well, she wasn't going to say no to sandwiches. At least if they hadn't spent a day in Graham's pocket.

She took a sip of the tea, and groaned in delight when the rich, earthy flavour flooded her senses and the warm liquid soothed her parched mouth. She quickly dipped a custard cream in the tea, turning it soft and warm, then ate it. Heavenly. She gulped in more tea. She started to feel like a person again. A person who was hurting all over, but still.

Yaz returned soon, with a gigantic glass of water and a plate full of grilled cheese-and-egg toasts. She was trailed by Graham and Ryan.

"Here you are," Yaz said, and sat by her. She looked like she wouldn't move before the Doctor had eaten at least two pieces of toast. The Doctor knew Yaz could be determined and patient, so she picked a piece of toast and set to work.

"If you need any more sandwiches, we've got more coming up in the kitchen," Graham said.

"You and your sandwiches," the Doctor said, smiling, after devouring the first toast. She didn't have time for a good quip, as she found herself tearing into the second piece of toast.

"You seem pretty hungry to me," Ryan said, chuckling. He clapped the Doctor on the shoulder. Unfortunately, it was the injured shoulder, and the Doctor let out an undignified squeal, nearly choking on her toast. "Sorry!" Ryan almost started beating her on the back to help her cough, then thought better of it as she shot a glare at him. "Are you hurt?" 

The Doctor managed to gain control of her breathing and her mouth again, and managed to say: "Oh, it's nothing."

But Yaz was already leaning across to inspect her back. "You're wounded! You've bled, it's seeped through your coat.

"Oh, I saw you get hurt in the corridor," Graham said. "But you said it's all right. Let me see."

Ryan crowded in to get a look, too.

"Stop it," the Doctor said. "It's healing already. The TARDIS helps me."

"Did you even bandage it?" Yaz asked, hands on hips and looking stern.

"I don't need to," the Doctor said.

"Oh, you also say you don't need to eat," Graham said. "And then nearly collapse of hunger."

"And last night you claimed you don't need sleep." Yaz said. 

"So? I don't."

"Hate to tell you," Ryan said, "but you slept like a baby for five hours. And you still look like death warmed over."

"I don't!"

Yaz was leaning over the Doctor's back again. She tugged at the coat by the wound. The Doctor yelped as pain shot through her shoulder. The dry blood had glued her clothes to the wound.

"Sorry!" Yaz said. "But — Doctor! You need to clean the wound and put on some bandages."

"Don't worry about it," the Doctor said, but it turned out that was exactly the wrong thing to say. 

"Stop telling me not to worry," Yaz said. "Why didn't you tell us you were hurt?"

The Doctor tried to shrug, but it wasn't a good idea now. So she winced. "Because I didn't?"

"But why? We could have helped you. And why didn't you eat or sleep while we were at the station?"

"It was more important to get everyone to safety."

"Your safety matters, too."

"It's not as important," the Doctor said.

"It is!" Inexplicably, Yaz sounded and looked hurt.

The Doctor looked at Ryan and Graham, hoping they'd explain.

"See, Doc, I think she means that we're your friends and you should trust us," Graham said. "We are, right?"

"Of course," the Doctor said. "You're the best! We're a gang, we're a fam—"

"Well, then you should let us take care of you," Yaz said, looking something fierce. "You're a part of the gang, too. You matter to us."

"Yes, I'm so grateful that you're my friends —"

Yay interrupted her. "Then why won't you trust us when you're hurt? Why do you just pretend everything's all right? You're my friend, our friend, we want to help you. Why don't you trust us?"

The Doctor blinked a few times as she thought. "Oh. "I'm doing it again, am I?"

"Yes!"

"Whatever it is, yeah, you're doing it," Ryan said helpfully.

The Doctor sighed and lifted her hand to her eyes. "Damn it! I was supposed to have more sense in this regeneration! I was going to do this thing with people right." She felt a bit miserable. 

"What if you were really badly hurt?" Yaz asked plaintively. "Would you let yourself bleed to death without telling us?"

"Of course not," the Doctor protested. 

Yaz glared at her, looking unconvinced. 

Graham cleared his throat. "I know our situations are really different, Doc, but hear me out a bit. When I fell ill, it was pretty hard at first to accept that I could be vulnerable, that I didn't need to be strong and tough all the time. I'd guess you're so used to saving everyone and helping everyone else, you forget that it's okay for you to need help, too. And to tell your friends. But it's worth it, I swear." He smiled fondly. "If I hadn't learned how to be vulnerable, I'd never have got to know Grace so well. Or be here with you all. And what'd be the point of that?"

The Doctor swallowed. Suddenly it was awfully hard to make a sound.

"Would I be totally out of my depth to suggest that you might have a bit of a saviour complex, as well?" Graham continued, so mild that she couldn't help but laugh dryly.

Ryan chortled, too. "A bit, maybe."

The Doctor bit her lip. "I've screwed up so many times," she said, "got people into trouble because I wasn't careful enough. I don't want to let anyone down."

"But you can't always save everyone," Yaz said. "And especially if you're trying to protect and help others, you need to take care of yourself, too. And let your friends help."

She sighed, and groaned. "I guess."

Yaz put her hand on the Doctor's uninjured shoulder. "We'll help you if you let us."

"Anyway, Doc, nobody does it right, not from the start," Graham said. "Or ever. That's what friends are for."

"Yeah," Ryan agreed. A silence descended, until Ryan broke it again, clearing his throat. "And if you gals want to have some privacy so Yaz can help you dress your wounds, Gramps and I can shove off for a bit now."

"Yeah," Graham agreed. "Tell you what, we'll make shortbread. I still remember this really nice recipe from Mary Berry."

"You keep Mary Berry to yourself," Ryan said, chuckling. "I'll find us some pizza." They got up and left.

*****

Twenty minutes later, the Doctor was patched up, in new clean clothes, her coat in the extra special cleaning programme of the TARDIS washing machine. She was sitting on a pile of pillows in what passed for a living room in the TARDIS, tearing into pizza with Ryan and Yaz. Graham was watching his Mary Berry shortbread baking in the oven, anxious that they'd turn out right. The Doctor wasn't sure who Mary Berry was, but it was a brilliant name. It'd probably produce good shortbread.

"Have some more water," Yaz said, topping her glass.

"I just drank a whole glass," the Doctor said, but drank it anyway.

"So I was thinking, these films might be good." Ryan was spreading his selection on the floor for them to look at. Mostly 22nd century Earth stuff and Andromedan science fiction. "But you pick which one you want, Doctor."

"Ooh, Ryan's actually letting you pick the film," Yaz said, putting her arm gently around the Doctor's waist. "He must've been really worried."

The Doctor laughed, glad for the comforting touch, and for what it meant: her friends, being there for her.

"One minute until shortbreads!" Graham yelled from the kitchen.

"You silly, we can't eat them straight outta the oven," Ryan yelled back. 

The TARDIS was humming around them and playing quiet piano music that was making the Doctor pleasantly drowsy. The temperature was warm and soothing, and the lighting was gentle on her tired eyes, surrounding her friends with its faint amber glow.

Maybe it wasn't so bad to be taken care of, every once in a while.


End file.
